Give me a domestic man.
Someone whose hands have kneaded dough
Someone who knows how to make flowers grow
Someone in whose arms babies feel safe.
I can take care of myself.
I can make my own ends meet.
I can ride the train and face the strain
Of long days and thankless labor.
But when I come home
Let there be peace
Let there be good food and a little wine
And listening and intimacy and laughter.
Let the world chase illusive goals
Like Pokémons on cell phones.
I like it here at home
With a man who knows what really matters.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem